Sentiment
by baligirl12
Summary: Sherlock Holmes always thought that sentiment was a flaw found in the losing side. Until his Pathologist proved him wrong. Rated T for drug use. Lots of sweeet Sherlolly goodness in later chapters so stay tuned.


Sherlock Holmes had never been one for emotion. Even as a child, much to his mothers disappointment. When he was a teenager he had no intentions of asking anyone to the disco. Boy or girl. He remembers sneaking behind the school sheds while everyone was slow-dancing, to have a cigarette or two with his mates. Not really "mates" as such. Just other people in his situation to social with, to reassure his parents that he they didn't need to call in another psychiatrist. But none of his so called "friends" were actually in his situation. Sure they had trouble making friends and didn't really find any joy in anything other then being alone, but no one was like Sherlock Holmes. He didn't just find it hard to socialise, he was incapable of it. Being in the presence of others was a constant distraction. Every minute he spent in conversation was a minute of wasted time in his mind palace. He didn't even sleep most of the time. 8 hours of solitude down the drain? His skin crawled at the thought of it. When he was young he would lie awake on in his cot, and pretend to be sleeping when Mummy came to check on him. "It's funny" he thought. " It's what I do now with John. " He thought, allowing himself to chuckle. Something's never change.

Sherlock's mind palace was his favourite place in the world. He had always described it as being like a drug. His mind was at ease in his mind palace. Most people find it strenuous to think but no, not Sherlock Holmes. He always felt more and more bliss every time he entered his mind palace. It was addictive. Like the strongest cocaine. Which he ironically turned to in his when at a later stage in his life. Something went wrong in his brain. His mind palace had been invaded and taken over by a girl in his physics class. Lilliana Jones. He'd only ever spoken to her briefly, usually about essays or tests. Sherlock had never really given her a second thought, just like everyone at that excuse for a university. She had dark black hair, that finished at her shoulders and had odd streaks of various colours running through it. She was wearing red and black checked skinny jeans when he first noticed her. She had was wearing a black half-top with the Rolling Stones Logo printed onto it, and had her eye's coated in black mascara and eyeliner.

Sherlock didn't remember how he noticed her, he just sort of did. She seemed of no relevance to him. There was nothing special about her other then her ability to pull off the ample amounts of eyeliner she wore. At first there were just small symptoms, her name would come up in one of his very rare conversations, or his mind would drift back to how boring physics was and then he'd think of her. But his case grew more and more severe. He'd try and let follow his thoughts through his brain but they all came back to one thing. Lilliana. Of course he tried to push her aside, after all, it was Sherlock Holmes. But to no avail, within weeks she had dominated his mind palace and ruled his body. And all he could think of was how good she looked in a crown.

That's where the cocaine came in. He was in his friend Luke 's flat when he discovered it. They were talking and after a while Sherlock's mind had drifted back to Lilliana. He was thinking about her hair. And what she'd look like without makeup. And what she'd look like in a dress. And what she'd look like without a dress.  
"Sher? You with me buddy?" Lukeasked snapping him out of his fantasies and probably for the better.

"Yeh… Um…." Sherlock struggled. He seemed like he'd just woken up. And he looked like it as well with his messy curls flying all over the place and his shirt hanging out of his trousers in awkward places and a few buttons either undone or missing. He looked like hell.

"Look mate. I don't know who she is, and I'm not gonna ask because I know you're not gonna tell me. But I can see that you're in denial. And I can see that you're not gonna admit to yourself that you're in love anytime soon. So here's a little something to take your mind off things for a bit" He said, pulling out a little pot of moisturizer. He unscrewed the lid revealed some white powder. Sherlock new immediately what it was. Luke passed him a straw and moved closer to him, excited to see what a high Sherlock would look like. Sherlock stared at the pot blankly.

"It help you feel better, honest."

Sherlock thought about it. He couldn't remember a time where he'd been alone in his thoughts. He knew what cocaine could do to people, Luke was a prime example. But then he looked at Luke more closely. He didn't care about anything, he was totally calm, all the time. He had no worries, no social skills and no women. He was completely peaceful all of the time. And with that he took the first snort.

His first thoughts were that it smelt horrible. Like stale vitamin powder. But then it kicked in. He felt the adrenaline pumping through his veins. The feeling was a whole new experience for him. For as long as he could remember he'd never given himself a break. He loved his mind, it was a beautiful thing, but it was busy. For once in his life everything was sedate. Nothing was on his mind, nothing was worrying him and nothing was stopping him from snorting more. He kept going. A bit by bit he consumed the drug. Minute by minute his euphoria escalated. And second by second he became more addicted. He finished the entire pot within minutes. Luke had never seen a first timer take in so much.

"Better?" he asked.

"Better!" Sherlock giggled enthusiastically in a high school-girly way. His blood shot eyes were trying to focus on Luke, but were seeing triples so it he couldn't tell which one to focus on. He got up off the floor and lazily flopped on Luke's bed next to him, both of them laughing giddily. They talked for numerous hours, both enjoying the sensation of ecstasy. They both fell asleep and felt like shit in the morning, but both of them admitted that it was worth it. Luke gave Sherlock the details of where to get the best crack and Sherlock listened intently, probably the only time in his life when he'd voluntarily listened to someone, let alone with interest. After that they both did the same thing pretty much every evening. Sherlock would go round to Luke's, smoke, fall asleep, wake up hung-over and go to school. And Sherlock loved it.


End file.
